


That Sly Come-Hither Stare

by Anonymous



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Curses, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Father/Son Incest, Incest, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Oral Sex, Other, Parent/Child Incest, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Curse, Threesome - F/M/M, Witch Curses, but trust me, im terrible, non-con because of persuasion, there is one other work that used the ragnar/bjorn tag, they're all into it, this is incest, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-27 20:34:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30128466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: There were rumours in Kattegat that Aslaug had bewitched his father. Bjorn had been there, and he judges these rumours false. She was just exceptionally beautiful."It wasn’t unusual for two men to share a woman. Unusual for a father and son? Perhaps. But neither Bjorn nor his father had ever really been…usual."
Relationships: Aslaug/Bjorn (Vikings), Aslaug/Ragnar Lothbrok, Bjorn/Ragnar Lothbrok
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7
Collections: anonymous





	That Sly Come-Hither Stare

**Author's Note:**

> This pairing will not leave my head even though I have never shipped incest pairings before.
> 
> Anyway, this does contain incest! Read at your own discretion.  
> Enjoy!

Bjorn had been tiptoeing around the tension between he and Aslaug for a little while; she was his father’s wife, for Gods’ sake. He has a bad habit of being drawn to women he can’t (or rather, shouldn’t) have, although in this case he’s abstained solely to preserve his rekindled relationship with Ragnar.

To see Aslaug proposition him with Ragnar right there is…unexpected, to say the least. Bjorn raises his eyebrow, feeling warmth alight in his loins even as he cocks his head in his father’s direction to see his reaction. He’s leaning casually on the wooden post, arms crossed as he shrugs and gives Bjorn one of those enigmatic half-smirks.

It wasn’t unusual for two men to share a woman. Unusual for a father and son? Perhaps. But neither Bjorn nor his father had ever really been…usual.

So, it’s with little guilt and a great deal of excitement that Bjorn follows Aslaug’s beckoning finger, slipping through the door into their chambers and feeling more than seeing Ragnar follow behind him.

Aslaug grins like a vixen, waiting until Bjorn is right in front of her before cocking her hips and running her hands up his stomach. Her nails brush his skin before his tunic falls back down, and he shudders. Bjorn takes it as permission and places his own hands on Aslaug’s waist, pressing their hips together and tilting his head forward to kiss her.

He licks and sucks his way down her pale, slender neck. She smells like herbs and rain and sweet, female sweat. Oddly, its not at all how Bjorn thought she would smell. She seems to cold and reptilian for that.

Rustling draws his attention and Bjorn looks into his peripheral vision to see that Ragnar has discarded his tunic. They make eye contact for a moment, and Bjorn understands the queue to switch. He does after sucking hard at the base of Aslaug’s neck, straightening, and taking a step back as Ragnar takes his place.

Bjorn feels his heart hammering as he removes his own tunic, kicking off his breeches as he does so. The air is cool and sharp on his flushed cock,

Its not long before all three of them are bare, and Bjorn follows Aslaug as she pulls away from his father and takes him by the shoulders, walking backward and falling onto the bed with him on top of her. He shifts to one side and Ragnar takes up the other, though Bjorn is more focused on Aslaug.

She is beautiful in an unearthly, ethereal way Bjorn has never experienced. Her flesh is pale and smooth, almost unsettling in it’s flawlessness. He takes one of her breasts in hand, nipping her collarbone and jaw as that hand releases the handful of flesh and trails his fingers down, through the thatch of dark hair and into velvety slick folds. She opens her mouth and cants her hips into his touch.

It’s a little…bizarre, fingering a woman whilst his father lays on the other side and fondles her breasts, but not altogether off putting. Especially when Aslaug throws her head back and moans; Bjorn’s breathing gets rougher and heavier as one of her long, slender hands draws claws down his belly and grasps his cock firmly. Their eyes lock, and something comes over him.

Everything is suddenly so much more intense. The foreplay is over and they’re right into the heat of things. It’s like a furnace, hot arousal washing over him in waves. Bjorn can’t quite tell where his limbs start and Aslaug’s end. There is flushed skin and hot breath everywhere.

Bjorn is lost in it, swept up and taken away and so absolutely out of it that it barely registers when he pops his lips from Aslaug’s nipple and holds his weight up on one elbow, reaching over to cup the back of Ragnar’s head and draw him into a deep kiss over Aslaug’s pale, flat stomach.

Ragnar is still, and reality creeps in like ice as Bjorn begins to pull back. What the fuck? Why did he do that?

When he opens his eyes, Ragnar is watching him with striking eyes blown black with lust and glazed with something he can’t quite identify.

So, he risks it all and dives back in, and this time Ragnar groans and reciprocates. A rough hand fall on Bjorn’s shoulder, and he feels Aslaug slide away from between them. He takes advantage of that to shift onto his knees and cup Ragnar’s jaw with both hands.

It’s wrong. Its so, _so_ wrong and the knowledge of that makes something _filthy_ writhe in Bjorn’s stomach. He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly craving this like nothing else, but he is.

He smirks into their kiss, biting Ragnar’s lip before pulling back a little to watch his reaction as he runs a big hand down his flank to cup the swell of his buttocks. Bjorn hears Ragnar’s breath hitch and squeezes, unable to resist nipping the column of his throat as Ragnar tips his head back.

It gives him the opportunity to find Aslaug again. She is hardly unimpressed by their lack of attention; she watches them with rapt fascination and interest, working herself openly. The sight makes his cock throb.

And yet, it’s impossible to tear his attention fully away from Ragnar. His father’s body is warmer and firmer than any woman’s broad and flat in places there are normally slim curves. Bjorn places his hands on Ragnar’s narrow hips and pulls them flush with his. He groans himself as their cocks brush, just a whisper of the friction he wants.

Their size difference is much more obvious like this. Bjorn feels like he’s towering over his father, having to bend just a little to nibble the shell of his ear.

Bjorn feels drunk, almost, as Aslaug’s whispered words fall on his ears with an unnatural persuasion.

“More,”

Ragnar must have heard it too because they move together as though it was coordinated. His father twists so that he’s on his knees in front of Aslaug, as she pulls his head between her legs.

Bjorn isn’t even thinking about it as his body moves. He slots himself behind his father, running a hand over the muscles on Ragnar’s broad back. He feels them shift beneath his touch.

Aslaug touches his hand and Bjorn looks up at her. Her eyes are dark and empty, like a snake, but he can hardly register than as a fierce surge of need almost overwhelms him. He can’t wait any longer.

He spits in his hand and leans over Ragnar, bracing himself with one hand and running his wet fingers between his buttocks. His father audibly chokes, but there’s a moan hidden underneath than Bjorn wants desperately to hear.

The mechanics are self-explanatory, even if he’s never been with a man before. Hasn’t even considered it, really. So why…is he doing this now? With his _father?_ This isn’t-

A slender hand draws his chin up to meet her eyes as he hesitates, and the misgivings slide away as he slides a single finger inside.

Ragnar’s hips jump forward, but he’s caught between Bjorn and Aslaug as he roughly adds another finger. His father grunts as Bjorn bites his lip and tries not to go too fast. Still, he can only wait so long before he adds a third meaty finger and then he’s slicking up his cock with spit and positioning himself just right-

Its almost painfully tight as he pushes in. Bjorn is, quite proudly so, not a small man, and his preparation was lackadaisical. He winces, almost thinking that it really won’t happen, before something gives, and the head of his cock breaches the first ring of muscle.

Ragnar yelps, pained, but Bjorn keeps his movements shallow and controlled until he is fully seated.

“Look at you,” spills with his breath from his lips, but he distantly notices Aslaug mouthing the words from the corner of his eye. Bjorn doesn’t care and grins at the shudder that wracks Ragnar’s body as Bjorn’s breath tickles his neck. “On your knees for me,”

“Bjorn-!” His father groans as Bjorn pulls out almost all the way, savouring the drag that is so much _more_ than any woman he’s ever had. “I…I don’t-“ there is something confused in the furrow of his brow as he turns his head.

“Hush,” Aslaug demands as she pulls his head back into her cunt.

Bjorn sits up on his knees for better purchase, and it’s the most brutally erotic image he has ever seen: his father beneath him, burning hot all around his cock as Bjorn grips his hips for dear life; Ragnar’s lips and tongue on Aslaug as she pushes his head deeper between her legs in a way that muffles his groans.

Aslaug herself is looking directly at Bjorn, tits bouncing as he fucks into Ragnar and rocks them both. He maintains eye contact as he bends down to lick, suck, and bite hard enough to leave bruises. She throws her head back and moans.

Bjorn pushes Ragnar’s lower back down into a tantalising arch, emphasising the broadness of his shoulders and the firmness of his buttocks. It changes his angle and Ragnar keens, pushing backwards into Bjorn’s thrusts, so overwhelmed he seems to forget about Aslaug entirely. She doesn’t seem to mind, going right ahead and rubbing fiercely at her clit as Bjorn leans over Ragnar’s back and rolls his hips smoothly, drawing more sounds from his father.

It sets his own veins alight and Bjorn nips his way up to Ragnar’s jaw, where his father turns his head and they meet in a kiss that tastes like Aslaug.

Ragnar’s moans shift in pitch, and Bjorn can’t help but quicken his pace in response. With every thrust Ragnar whimpers, louder and more desperate each time until it peaks and his back arches even deeper, muscles trembling as Bjorn feels his body clench around his cock.

_Gods._ He didn’t know men could even come like that. Without so much as a whisper on his cock.

Bjorn groans deep and low in his chest, possessed by the urge to chase his own orgasm hard and fast. But he prides himself on being an attentive lover and kisses Ragnar’s neck instead, grinding his hips and working him through his orgasm.

A heady groan draws his attention to Aslaug, who whimpers too and arches her long neck as she spasms around her own fingers.

That’s enough for Bjorn and he almost chokes, slamming forward hard just twice more before he spills with a loud yell.

He collapses on top of Ragnar with a sated moan, staying there for just a moment before hauling himself up and tenderly pulling out. There is blood streaked in the seed that covers his cock, and even as he watches, rivulets of red trickle down the crease of Ragnar’s thigh.

Bjorn frowns, shifting so he’s on his side and running a hand from Ragnar’s thigh, to his flank and shoulders to gently cup the back of his head, thumbing at his short-shorn hair. Bright blue eyes half-open to gaze at him blearily.

“Are you alright? You’re bleeding,”

Ragnar’s only answer is an inarticulate hum, and Bjorn quirks a fond smile as he falls back onto the bed. The furs are hot and soiled, and they should clean up. But he’s…so tired…

Aslaug settled onto the bed on Ragnar’s other side, tracing the muscles of his father’s back with long talons. She watches Bjorn with dark eyes as he sighs and reaches over Ragnar to run fingers down her neck.

“Sleep,” she suggests, and that is a _good_ idea.

Its only when he’s too far past the border of ‘sleep’ and ‘wakefulness’ to return that he realises what just occurred.

**Author's Note:**

> I got the title from Frank Sinatra's "Witchcraft".
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this terrible thing. Want more? leave a comment! I have so many ideas.


End file.
